


Need You-A Johnlock Fanfiction

by JohntheBlonde



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-14 17:49:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 11,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29795628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JohntheBlonde/pseuds/JohntheBlonde
Summary: John needs Sherlock. Now that he has him back, how will he keep him?There is angst, fluff, sad feels, happy feels. Lets call it an emotional roller coaster. I'm aware bbc Sherlock isn't as popular anymore but I hope someone like me is still out there wanting it read about it. :)The characters aren't mine, of course, they are Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's creations and taken from the BBC adaptation.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Kudos: 6





	1. While You're Gone

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry I'm already interrupting but some need to knows, are that in this story, John never met Mary and never really moved on from Sherlock's 'death'. I hope you enjoy, I listen to music when I write so sometimes I don't fully pay attention to grammar, if there is a mistake I am sorry. This chapter is mostly the sad life of John without Sherlock but it is worth the read believe me, the next chapter picks up the pace a bit. If you see this on a different website they are both by me, same author, I did post this to two websites :)

John's head ached as he rolled over. He hadn't slept in nearly six days. All he could picture when he managed to close his eyes, even to blink, was Sherlock. Not the handsome, sly, smirking, arse that he grew fond of, but the bloody, heartbreaking, lifeless, sight that lay on the sidewalk outside St. Bart's. 

John stared at the ceiling. He didn't know why exactly he was laying in bed, he knew he wasn't going to fall asleep. But lately he did more and more things he didn't understand. He would visit Sherlock's grave twice a week, sometimes just to sit, not even to speak. He would make two cups of tea, letting one sit in the air and cool, never being drunk. He would watch crap telly imaging all the things Sherlock who yell at it. He would read through old cases, remembering Sherlocks amazing gift. That's just to name a few. Something about living everyday was less exciting, less trilling, not having Sherlock was...well...boring. 

After thirty more minutes of staring at the plain, pattern-less, ceiling, John got up. It was 4 in the morning and John was tired. He walked out to the kitchen, making coffee, two cups. He sat at the island staring at the dark liquid in his mug. Silence filled his ears, he longed for something to make a noise. If he were to choose specifically he would want to hear violin music, playing a melancholy yet beautiful tune, or Sherlock rambling off deductions about easy emailed-in cases, or the fire alarm ringing from an explosion Sherlock made, or even the sound of Sherlock's feet pacing across the floor. He wanted to hear anything, anything but silence. 

He raised his mug to his mouth taking one sip before feeling full. As he sat the cup down he stared at the mug which he had sat across the table. He imagined Sherlock sitting there, holding the mug in his hand, not really drinking it, just absorbing its warmth. He imagined this same thing every morning. John imagined Sherlock often lately. Sherlock's eyes met John's and a smirk formed on his face. Its not that seeing Sherlock was bad, it was that he wanted to see Sherlock, not see him. John watched as Sherlock began to smile and with a blink he was gone. John chuckled angrily to himself before standing up. He sat his nearly-full cup in the sink, turning and staring for a moment at the untouched mug at Sherlock's spot. After a moment he decided to leave it feeling that was best right now.

He sat in his chair opening his laptop. He opened his blog, going back to their first case. John slowly read over the memories. He remembered when they first met that something other than his intelligence set him apart from everyone else. John still couldn't explain what that something was but something made him trust Sherlock, something, made him believe in Sherlock, something made him care for Sherlock. And that same something spent everyday tormenting him over not having that mad man as part of his life. As John continued reading he felt tears begin to well up in his eyes. He sat his laptop aside not wanting to read more. He ran his hand through his hair letting out a small whimper as a tear rolled down his cheek. He put his hand over his mouth, not wanting to make a sound as more tears made their way down his face. John shut his eyes, all he could see was Sherlock, images flashed through his mind of Sherlock, from the first time he saw him, to the last. 

As he opened his eyes again he looked to the chair across from him, Sherlock's chair. There sat Sherlock, leaning against his armrest, jaw propped up on his palm. Sherlock looked concerned and John smiled as another tear trickled across his cheek. John moved his hand away from his mouth as he trusted himself not to make to much noise. Sherlock was just staring at him. His eyes were indefinitely full of pity for the broken doctor sitting across from him. Sherlock leaned back, arm plopping down from it's position. John opened his mouth to speak before shutting it once more. 

Sherlock smiled shaking his head yes. John closed his eyes tight before opening them to see Sherlock was gone again. John whimpered once more as another tear ran down. He got up, walking over and grabbing his jacket. He ignored the fact that he was only wearing a thin white shirt and pajama bottoms, he needed to go talk.


	2. Sherlock

John stood staring down at Sherlock's grave. He had been here often but every visit seemed to feel like the first. He shivered as a gust to wind whipped through the graveyard. John imagined Sherlock leaning against the grave, infamous coat and scarf on. He smiled at John who couldn't manage smiling back. Sherlock stood walking over to John, he reached out as if to hug him before John closed his eyes, letting Sherlock disappear. 

After a moment of thinking John sat down. He leaned back against the cold stone and tucked his knees into his chest. He closed his eyes tight trying to hold back tears, how he still had any left amazed him yet being a doctor he knew he couldn't really run out. John sighed before deciding to do what he came here for. 

"Sherlock..." John bit his lip, indecisive on how exactly to continue, "Why did you have to die, what would make you want to do that. You are, were, perfect. God Sherlock, why...why..." He leaned his head back against the stone muttering the same word over and over. 

He turned, fully snuggling into the stone as if it was a source of life, "Sherlock, if you heard me ever, which I hope you do, I want to you know that I miss you, I'm aware I repeat the same staggered words every week but I do, I really do. And if I could have one thing in the world it would be to be with you again. Even if it was only for a brief moment." John swallowed, "Sherlock, I-, I-...."John wanted to say something but the words continued to get stuck in his throat. He put his fist to his mouth, biting down on the knuckle of his forefinger. Letting out a wine of pain he stood up.

"I really don't want to leave," He started, pulling his jacket over himself tighter as the wind picked up. 

"Then don't." A voice came from behind him, it sounded familiar. But chances were his mind was playing tricks on him again. 

John felt a hand on his shoulder. "Because I won't....." John was confused, it couldn't, but I had to be, it sounded too real...

He stepped forward before turning. When he saw him he almost burst in a combination of about 86 different emotions. "Sher-" John then closed his eyes covering his mouth again. He began shaking his head no. He felt a hand grab his wrist, running a thumb across his knuckles. 

"John, its okay, I'm not dead." John allowed the hand to pull away his own and he let out a soft whimper. "Open your eyes, please." His voice was soft. John slowly opened his eyes. Sherlock was staring at him the worried way that he had imagined him at the flat. 

"Sherlock, you-, you were-, I saw you, Sherlock, your pulse. And how could you, for two years." John stared into Sherlock's blue-green eyes that shined with guilt. John felt a warm tear heat his cold face. Sherlock let go of John's hand, he didn't know what to say to him. 

"I- I'm sorry, John, I truly am. I couldn't tell you, if I could, I would." Sherlock looked down at his shoes which in the moment were appearing more interesting than ever. John stayed silent, he had no way of articulating his emotions. 

John shivered with another gust of wind. As he sighed Sherlock looked up, his eyes were glossy as if he wanted to cry. John crumpled his fist into a ball at his side. Sherlock closed his eyes preparing for the forceful punch his army doctor could give. After a few moments nothing happened and Sherlock opened his eyes. John was sitting, leaning against Sherlock's 'grave'. Sherlock kneeled down next to him. Sentiment and comforting weren't exactly his strong suits but he had to make this better, if he could that is. 

He grabbed John's hand which was resting on his thigh. John's hand was cold, so cold Sherlock felt it through his glove. He slowly intertwined their fingers, John staring at the connection. "I know sorry isn't enough for two years. But please John, forgive me." John stayed silent, he wanted to forgive and forget but, two years, two whole years... Sherlock sighed as if admitting defeat, he leaned over pressing a warm kiss to John's cold temple.

As Sherlock backed away John turned, cheeks reddened and flustered. Sherlock got caught in the blue-grey sea of John's eyes. Their stares were interrupted by John shivering again. Sherlock slowly disconnected his hand from John's as he took off his coat and scarf. John smiled as Sherlock laid the coat over John's shoulders, Sherlock held onto the scarf as if it lost purpose. The air felt immediately colder with the lack of outerwear but there was no person more deserving of it. John cleared his throat finally having something to say. 

"I missed you." Sherlock smiled at John's soft tone. It might not have been forgiveness, but it was perfect. 

"I missed you too." John reached over grabbing Sherlock's hand to intertwine there fingers once more. Sherlock's smile grew as John rested his head against the detective's shoulder. John closed his eyes, the lack of sleep getting to him. He fell asleep forgetting the frigid air, Sherlock pressed another kiss on the top of John's head. He whispered to not wake his doctor from the well deserved sleep, "I missed you so, so much." Sherlock closed his eyes, leaning his head against his own grave.


	3. Consulting Detective's Consultant

Two weeks had passed since Sherlock had returned. John hadn't said he had forgiven Sherlock yet because in all honestly he wasn't sure. John slept in today, he slept in quite often lately, you could say he was making up sleep for all of the sleepless nights he endured when Sherlock was gone. Meanwhile Sherlock was sitting out at the kitchen table on his laptop. He was scrolling through the emailed-in cases, which was usually John's job. He sipped slowly on his coffee as they all seemed to be boring or outdated. If he was being honest he wasn't really focused on the cases anyway, he was thinking about John. With ever passing day Sherlock managed to feel worse about the two years he was gone, he was unsure John would ever really forgive him. 

About five minutes later John got up. As he moseyed down the stairs the the flat below he began to smell the blackberry jam and coffee from the kitchen. John smiled as he pushed through the door seeing his flatmate at the kitchen table. As John sat Sherlock passed him a plate containing scrambled eggs and toast with the sweet smelling blackberry jam, they were still warm and tasted delicious. 

John got up going to grab orange juice, passing a bag of assorted extremities. Sherlock shot up from his chair excitedly waltzing around the table to grab the carton from the shorter man. Grabbing a glass and pouring John's juice, Sherlock jumped in excitement. 

"Did you win the lottery?" John was amused by Sherlock's excitement as he began to drink from the glass Sherlock handed him. 

"Even better, we have a case." Sherlock spun himself around now facing the blonde. 

"Who's the lucky client?" John was at this point holding back his laughter. 

"Lestrade, he just hasn't mentioned it yet." Sherlock smirked walking over to the door. John placed his glass in the sink and his face was greeted with his coat as he turned. 

"Thanks." He audibly heard Sherlock laugh as the door closed. John threw on his jacket, going to catch up to his crazy detective. 

\-------------

Lestrade stood confused by some yellow tape as the two men got out of the cab. "Who tipped you off, I didn't say anything yet." Sherlock stayed silent walking passed Greg to lift up the tape for John, whom obliged shrugging at the detective inspector. 

The scene was eerie, it was in a cheery flat but the flat itself was definitely the only cheery thing about it. Bloody handprints littered the walls yet the man on the floor had burnt to death, obviously. Besides that no items touched the ground, except from the feet of the workers, items such as the bed and even chairs were attached to the walls, not touching the floor. A single chair on the wall was upside down and parallel to that was a wall containing a letter W carved into the wallpaper. John switched his attention from the scene to Sherlock, avoiding looking at the body, which frankly shouldn't still be there. 

Sherlock was on his hands and knees, very close to the body, which in this case was more unsettling. Sherlock hopped up in one swift move and turned to John, "He was a lot like you, just not an army man. About your height, to be exact 1.34 inches shorter, he was blonde, had grey-blue captivating eyes, and had toast this morning." John furrowed his eyebrows and Lestrade gawked in confusion. 

"And you got that from the crispy man?" Lestrade asked slowly. 

Sherlock didn't respond only grabbing John by the collar of his shirt and pulling him out of the flat. John was slightly taken aback, forgetting what it was like working with Sherlock. Once they were in the hall Sherlock pulled him upstairs to the next floor. John was very flustered at how this had anything to do with the case. Sherlock loosened his grip on John's button-up. John was searching Sherlock's eyes for some sort of emotion but Sherlock was blank. 

"Sherlock, why are we up here..." John looked away from Sherlock, looking around at the far from vacant building floor. 

Sherlock seemed to be pulled from a dazed stupor, "Wha-, oh here, yes. We are here because I need to consulate."

"You," John chuckled at Sherlock, rolling his eyes, "the world's one and only consulting detective, needs consultation." Sherlock sighed, John began to turn back down the stairs and Sherlock grabbed his upper arm, pushing him into the wall. 

"Please John,"

John looked deep into Sherlock's pleading eyes. "Okay, what." John didn't look away from Sherlock.

"I-, ugh, well," Sherlock looked uncertain, he looked down to the floor. He removed his hand from holding onto John's arm but John didn't move from the wall. "The body was heartbroken at his time of death, he was murdered by-. I don't want to explain that fully to you, ruins the enigma of the scene. Anyways like I mentioned he was a lot like you, so I need your help going through the suspects." John looked confused. "I'm aware I make almost no sense but please say you will." John looked down, he was lost on how this couldn't be said where they had been. 

"Sure." John looked back up to Sherlock who had stepped back a few paces. 

"Okay. Um-, thanks." John was still trying to figure out why Sherlock was acting, well, different. 

They stood there for longer than they probably platonically should have just staring at each other. Sherlock's eyes shined in the bit of daylight that was peaking through the stairwell window. John's heart began to beat fast and he knew Sherlock would notice so he turned and walked down the stairs quickly. After John left Sherlock stood in place, now looking at the floor. He didn't think he should follow John so he waited. Soon Lestrade came up the stairs jolting Sherlock out of his thoughts. 

"Is John okay?"

"Yeah, I'm guessing. Wait, is he?" Sherlock turned looking at the detective inspector with more worry than he should have.

"Um, idk, he left quickly I thought you would know."

"Oh, okay." Sherlock swallowed before changing the subject, "I need to speak with the man's girlfriend, and his flatmate, he had plans to meet them today. No, I don't know who they are, you do have a job you know." Sherlock shook his head and walked past Lestrade going to catch a cab.


	4. Dr. Devin Taylor

John was sitting in his chair with a cuppa he had just made. He was aware that Sherlock would be following but just needed to collect his thoughts. His mind was buzzing, in all honesty he didn't know why he left, he just did. Maybe it was the shock of being told by the Sherlock Holmes that you were needed for consultation, or maybe it was that he was uncomfortable from the scene, or maybe it was something else, maybe it was that John almost showed his affection towards his sociopathic flatmate. He didn't really know.

He was happy that Sherlock was back but some part of him just couldn't get over two years and what those two years did to him. The most important thing yet worst thing was that John found that his acute admiration of his brunette buddy become more of a love. Maybe. He wasn't really sure. 

His thoughts were abruptly halted by Sherlock's voice. "Hey, um-, John." John stood sitting down his now empty cup, Sherlock was hanging up his coat and scarf as he continued, "Everything good?"

John was slightly befuddled by the question, why would Sherlock care. "Yeah, I just hadn't been to a crime scene in a while. It was um...weird." John tried to blow off the question as he walked to the kitchen. 

Sherlock turned around a chair, sitting in it backwards as John sat his cup in the sink. John watched the sight in front of him for most likely longer than he should have. Sherlock's tight black trousers were being stressed due to his seating position. Once Sherlock noticed John's attention he smirked looking down. 

Sherlock cleared his throat, "The case, we know that his is like you, other than that, he works at a children's clinic and he hasn't been seen since Monday, that's three days." Sherlock paused contemplating how much to tell John," He has yet to be identified but Lestrade will get back to us."

"Okay. How do you know so much if he isn't identified?" 

"Its only 3...hmph" Sherlock stood up pushing the chair in under the table. He walked over to John tilting his head slightly to his confused flatmate. 

"Okay then Mr. Mysterious." John rolled his eyes picking up an empty beaker off the table to avoid eye contact.

Sherlock chuckled at John, which was unexpected. John smirked continuing to examine the glass. Sherlock rested his elbows on each of John's shoulders, piling his hands on John's head before propping his chin on his hands. Once he realized what Sherlock was doing John went pink. He grabbed onto Sherlock's forearms trying to move him. 

"Sherlock move." John chuckled after many failed attempts at moving the taller man. 

"No." Sherlock wined.

"Come on move."

"No."

"Mooove" John and Sherlock were now dancing around the kitchen as Sherlock refused to move from John's head. 

"Come on Sherlock." John was now dying of laughter. He tripped over the leg of a chair and they both tumbled to the ground laughing. John was laying on top to Sherlock's chest and as he caught his breath he blushed looking down at the brunette. Both men blushed slightly.

"Unless you are taking up residence, would you mind removing yourself." Sherlock made John blush more and he climbed off of his flatmate. As they both stood Sherlock's phone vibrated against the kitchen table. Sherlock ruffled John's hair and smirked as he walked to see the message. As John attempted to fix his hair Sherlock read over the paragraph Lestrade had sent. 

We finally have some information, the body's name was Devin Taylor. He works at a children's hospital, coworkers have reported that he hasn't been to work in three days. The girlfriend's name is Elizabeth Brent and she works at the same children's hospital. She was working late the night of Devin's death. The friend is Victor Thornsbury, he is a 5th grade teacher and was home alone the night of Devin's murder but no one can confirm. Do you have any leads? Why am I asking, you wouldn't tell me. 

Sherlock sat on the table placing his phone in his pocket. He went to his mind palace for a moment flipping through names, none of them had any criminal background. Sherlock snapped back to reality as John came back from the bathroom with wet hair. He had apparently used water to fix his ruffled hair. Sherlock shook his head going to sit in the other room. John followed suit sitting across from his flatmate and opening his laptop. He pulled up google pac-man and began playing to pass the time. Sherlock was planning on thinking but once his blonde friend had sat down he couldn't manage thinking, he just watched John play. Although his face was serious, he always got serious when it came to pac-man, his eyes were soft and gleamed in the blue light from the screen. The noise that pac-man made eating annoyed Sherlock but it was worth listening to to watch John play. 

An hour went by before either man even noticed. John was the first to recognize the lost time as he was beginning to do worse in the game anyways, he looked up noticing Sherlock's soft gaze. 

"Um, Sherlock." Sherlock raised his eyebrows in acknowledgment but didn't move. "You're staring." Sherlock blinked twice before looking away. John smiled as he shut his laptop. 

"Food. John you need food." Sherlock looked back at John.

"Yes, I'm aware." John furrowed his eyebrows.

"Well, would you mind if I took you somewhere. For food, that is." Sherlock had tilted his head sideways almost a full 90 degrees. John sat and thought, Was Sherlock asking him out as in a date, or just asking him out? Sherlock stood walking around John, towards the door.

"Sure, do you hav-" John was cut out by his jacket flying over his head and landing in his lap. "....Thanks..." John smiled while rolling his eyes and Sherlock chuckled. 

\---------

They were eating at Antonio's apparently. Sherlock had gotten a salad which had few toppings, mostly because he only asked for a few toppings, and John had alfredo, which he was enjoying. Sherlock didn't really eat much of his salad, only taking about five bites, which John was okay with for it was more than usual, he spent most of his time watching John slurp down his pasta. John smiled as he saw Sherlock pile two leaves and a chunk of tomato onto his fork before slowly munching on it. They had been at Antonio's a while because they both ate slowly. Sherlock got full after his sixth bite, pushing the plate towards the left, out of his way. He began tracing his finger on the design of the candle holder, which Antonio had brought them a candle assuming they were together, but due to the darkness neither protested.

After about ten more minutes John finished as well. "What now?"

Sherlock smirked before responding, "The game is on." Sherlock dramatically stood reaching out his hand, palm up, for John who laughed and took his flatmate's hand.

\----------

Sherlock had instructed the driver to go to an address that John wasn't fully aware of but had heard before. It was a children's hospital. The lobby smelled of hand sanitizer and a lack of germs. Sherlock put on a persona as he walked up to the front desk. 

"Ma'am, my boyfriend here and I need to speak to Dr. Devin Taylor. He's his usual doctor." John was a bit taken aback by Sherlock's choice of words, before reminding himself it was part of Sherlock's grand acting skills. 

"Well sorry but he isn't here today. You can-" Sherlock cut of the plump woman, switching back from his persona.

"No." The woman looked bewildered as Sherlock and John turned to leave.

Before they got to the door however Sherlock made sure no one saw and shoved John into what appeared to be a broom closet, Sherlock coming in behind him. 

"What the hell." John started, looking down to Sherlock who was kneeling in front of a air vent.

"Shut your beautiful mouth...please." Sherlock spoke calmly. John looked straight ahead, rather than down, and furrowed his eyebrows in confusion at Sherlock's choice of words, as usual. Sherlock let out a happy squeal as he got the vent grate off and leaned in against a wall. John looked over to Sherlock who had now stood up. "In." Sherlock pointed to the mediocre sixed whole in the wall. 

"What!" John said apparently louder than he should have because Sherlock placed his hand over John's mouth. 

"In. I will direct you, Devin worked on this floor." Sherlock removed his hand from John's mouth, once more pointing the wall. 

"Who is Devin and why are we going through a vent, Sherlock!?" John was angrily whispering. Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"Devin, body. Vent go to office. Moving on, lets go." Sherlock pointed again and John rolled his eyes reluctantly climbing in. 

It was too small to crouch but both men manage crawling. As they went through Sherlock periodically announced a new direction for John to go in and eventually they where when they needed to be. 

"Here." Sherlock said prompting John to stop. 

"How do I get out?" 

"Kick it, you're strong." After lots of repositioning John managed to be able to lay in a way in which he could kick the grate. He was staring at Sherlock upside down and their faces were currently only an inch apart, he could feel the brunette's cool breath on his cheeks as he exhaled, which in return made John smile and blush. Sherlock smirked and raised an eyebrow to indicate the John needed to kick the dam vent down, which he then did, slipping through it feet first, stomach up. He got out and he was standing on top of an organizer, which he jumped off of. Sherlock came shortly after him, loosing his footing and missing the organizer, wrapping his arms around John's waist to stabilize himself. John's heart began to beat fast as Sherlock peeled himself away.

John leaned against the wall not really knowing what to do as Sherlock got into the laptop. He was loading tons of information onto an usb when there was jostling from the door. Sherlock pulled the usb out and turned to face John who looked worried, Sherlock pointed up the vent then tilted his head telling John to go. John climbed up and couldn't heard what Sherlock was doing. After John got into the vent he looked behind himself, only seeing Sherlock follow and then put the grate back on, as someone was now repeatedly banging on the door. John went to question it and Sherlock shook his head no, gesturing for John to go. 

As they once more climbed out of the vent on the other side, John let out a heavy sigh. "What happened?" John asked figuring Sherlock was going to ignore him.

Much to John's surprised he answered, "I have the majority of information now on the usb, so we can look into that further on one of our laptops, but otherwise, I propped the chair under the door and it seemed to do the trick. Whoever was out there really wanted in, my question is why." John gaped for a second slightly, no very, surprised that Sherlock even said what he didn't know yet. 

"Catching flies I see." Sherlock commented which made John shut his mouth and turn to open the door. 

Apparently neither man remembered they were physically in a closet and had been for nearly 30 minutes because when they opened the door and got looks that ranged from disgusted to holding back a bit of laughter they were both confused. John thought for a second before realizing and pinching the bridge of his nose. He went slightly pink and quickly exited the building like he had left the crime scene earlier that day. Sherlock was defiantly confused as he rushed after John, which wasn't hard with his Sherlockian strides. 

John was leaning up against the concrete wall, hands shoved in his jacket pockets. "What John. You left rather abruptly." Sherlock walked over trying to read John but what he was reading didn't make sense. He could deduce that John was emotions like nervous, embarrassed, and slightly sad. His hair was messed up from a hand being ran threw it multiple times and the shaking suggested anger was building up. 

"Sherlock..." John sighed not knowing how to approach this, "Its fine, I'm just embarrassed that's all." Sherlock was aware that embarrassed was not all, but he decided that since it was a supporting factor he would let John continue uninterrupted. "Those people saw us stumble out of a broom closet, Sherlock." Sherlock blinked unsure of the reason to be embarrassed. "Oh my god, you are a very intelligent man but sometime I swear you are duller than a rock." John rolled his eyes pushing himself off the wall.

"I'm sorry John I-"

"Sherlock, don't apologize, you have nothing to apologize for, I shouldn't have called you dull." John looked over to Sherlock, who was looking rather blankly at John. "They thing we had...fun...."

"Oh." Sherlock now realized what John was referring to and was blushing a bit himself. John sighed. Sherlock walked over grabbing John's hand, intertwining there fingers. "We should go and look at the files huh." Sherlock was now looking directly at John who was shocked by the hand-holding. 

"Yeah." John was fluster but managed to speak.

"Let them talk and gossip. People do little else." Sherlock smiled at John which made him smile back. Without separating their hands they got a cab back to 221b. John knew there was something far from platonic about this but chalked it up to Sherlock not know what was overstepping the friend line. 


	5. Perfect

It was now 12:30 and Sherlock and John were both still up. Sherlock was playing music on his violin while John listened along. The usually melancholy tune was a bit more cheerful and the brunette man was making it up on the spot. His eyes were closed as he danced around the sitting room, he wasn't sure what made him write the song but he had his suspicions. John was watching and smiling as his detective swayed alone enjoying himself. John yawed making Sherlock stop. His flatmate wasn't mad he was just slightly concerned. 

"John, you might want some rest. Its getting late." Sherlock sat down his instrument walking over to his friend. 

"I can stay up a bit longer." John reassured Sherlock whom wasn't convinced. "I can."

Sherlock smiled, "If you lay on the couch I would feel better, that way if you do fall asleep you are comfortable." John shook his head standing up and switching to the couch. He didn't understand why Sherlock cared but lately that was a reoccurring theme. Sherlock smiled once more before picking back up his violin and continuing the song. 

John was tired in all honesty and as Sherlock's music went on he began to get more and more tired. Despite his best efforts to say awake he began to doze off and eventually had fallen asleep on the couch. As Sherlock stopped his music he walked over to his flatmate, kneeling down by the side of the couch. John was peaceful and looked so handsome as he slowly breathed in and back out. Sherlock brushed aside a hair that had laid itself across John's forehead. 

"You're always so handsome." Sherlock spoke without noticing. Lucky his didn't wake the sleepy blonde up. 

Sherlock had work to do and decided it was best to move John so he wouldn't accidently wake him. He picked his friend up bridal style and carried him to Sherlock's bedroom. Pulling back the duvet and laying John back down, he smiled. How could one person be so unbearably perfect. Sherlock finished tucking John in, kissing his forehead. A small smile crept across John's face as well as his flatmate turned to leave.

"Goodnight." Despite being half awake John managed as much.

"Goodnight..." Sherlock closed the door turning back to the work at hand.

He plugged in the usb and sorted through the files. One imp-articular caught his eye as it was labeled project w. As Sherlock opened it he noticed that it was mostly images and mp3s. Sherlock furrowed his eyebrows as he scrolled through. The images were of different locations but one thing was reoccurring. A young woman with red hair shoulder length was always wearing the same outfit, never noticing the photographer. The weather and sky were different in each image yet she was always dressed the same. A yellow jumper with red colored jeans, sporting a crème colored bag that she always had swung over her right shoulder. Sherlock set aside the contents of that file, pulling open the next. I was a single word document, updated the day of his death. As Sherlock read it he got more sure of the situation at hand. 

Hello, I am making this as a precaution. I know this isn't anything official but since I don't you have a will and testament this is what I am leaving. I have been following this woman for five months now. She is begin to catch on and I am worried. My girlfriend Elizabeth is the only other person aware of this entire situation. I feel as if I have reached to far and will end in a point of no return, if I die, protect Elizabeth, they know, they all know. I am running late as I type this but I need you to understand, whoever you are, Elizabeth means more to me than the world and if I die she needs to be safe. Please.   
I am currently running for my life, I am typing this into my phone so I hope this goes through, Victor will be framed, I know who the woman I was following was and I now have to say my last goodbyes. I have tried calling 911, but no one of my calls go through. Read the attached recordings. I love you Liz. 

That was all it said. Sherlock read it over once more before moving on. He didn't want to wake John but he had to hear the recordings. He pulled out his earbuds, in a rush. Sherlock placed his hand in front of his mouth, biting down hard on his index finger, drawing blood. He pressed play;

"Hello, this recording is for Victor. Hey mate, I need you to do something for me. When they find my body look in the right breast pocket. I know you hack into my laptop every morning so you have a chance of seeing this before the police find me-." Devin began panting and catching his breath. a gunshot could be heard but it seemed to miss, "FUCK! Okay mate just do that, yeah bye." That mp3 ended and Sherlock recognized something from the recording, he couldn't quite lay his finger on it. He pressed start on the next recording. 

"Hey, this recording is for Elizabeth. I'm sorry for the argument we had earlier. You aren't dumb and I could never hate you. When people are angry they say thing they don't mean, I promise it. Okay." His voice was calmer with only a smidge of panic, unlike the previous recording where he was quite frantic. "I might not be alive, if you are hearing this, but I would like you to understand that even though I tell you every single day that I love you, I need you to understand this, I don't just love you. I need you and I'm in love with you. I am fighting because of you and I need you to understand that I was somewhere where I wasn't able to get out myself, and meeting you made that better. If I could right now I would kiss you and stay close but that's not possible right now okay." he continued to ramble and was attempting to catch his breath. "Where am I, 102 Wiseman road, got it." He was muttering to himself but the recording caught it, that was the address of the scene, he continued muttering. "What, this isn't right, SHIT, no, no, no. Get back." He was now louder and back to a panicky voice. "Oh shit, FIRE, FIRE, someone help I'm on fire," He was yelling frantically. "You bastard!!" He seemed to then remembered being on a recording. "My god-, I...I...I love you Liz." The recording cut off with another scream of pain. Sherlock's heart was beating quickly and he was shaking slightly. His mind was fuzzy and words couldn't form.

He ran his hand over his face before closing the tab and opening the last file hesitantly. It just showed contact information for Elizabeth, Victor, and someone named James. Sherlock quickly memorized the listed addresses, closing his laptop before getting up. He quickly ran out of the door, ignoring the fact that he had no coat. He got all the way down the stairs before stopping. John...what about John. Sherlock hesitated not knowing what to do, he finally decided it could wait, the world could wait for John Watson. Sherlock smiled at the thought and walked back upstairs.

He went to walk to the kitchen for some tea but was stopped when he saw John leaning in the doorway of the bedroom, arms crossed and a confused look on his face. "Where were you going, its very late. Not to mention a lack of a coat." Sherlock sighed walking over to John who unfurled his arms. 

"I think its time to bring in my consultant." Sherlock smiled as John remembered the previous conversation. John shook his head assuring Sherlock that was fine. They both walked to the sitting room acknowledging the fact that it was 2:47am. Sherlock and John sat in there allotted chairs a moment of silence being shared before one spoke. 

"So, I know a bit more now looking through the files and apparently someone, a man seemed to kill Devin. Other than that we need to talk to a few people. Elizabeth, Victor, and James."

"And these people are, I may ask." 

"Girlfriend, good mate, and unknow relation." Sherlock answered sighing at the lack of knowledge on the last man.

"Hm." John looked to the floor. "And what am I consulting on."

"Who did it."

John was confused. "What, I know noting of these people." 

"I'm aware." Sherlock showed everything he had found in the files which made John breath heavier. 

\----

"Oh." John leaned back processing everything, "Who is James though." Sherlock gave him a look which explained everything. 

"So, we have addresses, numbers, and dates of birth for all three people. Who do we see." Sherlock knew the answer but wasn't sure entirely, which is why he needed his consultant.

"I don't think Mrs. Brent is all that dangerous, she seems to be the poor girlfriend. Victor is a mystery, not much is known about him but he seems to be more of an ally. James is just James. I would say talk to James." Sherlock leaned back now as well. "Wait, I retract my statement, we should talk to them all." Sherlock smiled. 

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"Being my consultant of course." Sherlock and John both leaned forward again, John chuckled.

"Okay then." Silence filled the room for a moment longer. "If that's all the consulting for now, can I ask you something?" Sherlock raised his eyebrows in concern before shaking his head yes. "Why do you, um-, hold my hand so often..." John looked away while talking before looking back and getting trapped in Sherlock's brilliant eyes. 

"Um, I can not if you don't want me to, I guess I may have over stepped, I just like holding your hand I guess." Sherlock seemed to be nervous and John was surprised at how sad Sherlock sounded. 

"No, no. Its fine, great, yeah, don't not." John shut his mouth to stop stumbling before starting over, "If you want to its okay, I don't mind." He smiled making Sherlock smile back. They both got up simultaneously, now standing only an inch apart. John spoke again. "I've never minded." His voice was calm and soft. 

Before either man noticed Sherlock had cupped John's face and kissed his flatmate. John was a bit star struck but couldn't help but kiss Sherlock back. It didn't last long as Sherlock stopped and separated, apprehensively staring into John's eyes. He was still holding onto John's face and the shorter man leaned into the touch. 

"I-, I'm sorry, John. I- I don-" John cut Sherlock off.

"Don't be sorry." John pushed himself into his tippy toes, pressing his lips into Sherlock's. 

It started off odd but as they found a rhythm neither man wanted to stop. Sherlock's lips were soft and sweet. John's were firm yet perfect. John then stepped back ending the moment. Both men were breathing heavy finding their breath. 

"I'm sorry I left for those two years. I won't leave you again. I promise." Sherlock didn't like making promises he couldn't guaranteed he could keep, but he intended to try and keep it. John smiled, everything was perfect.


	6. All the Clues Together

Sherlock grabbed the last piece of toast as it popped out of the toaster, covering it with some butter and laying it on the plate. John was scrolling on his laptop on websites that were unknown to Sherlock. The brunette spun around sitting the plate of toast on the blonde's keyboard. John looked up and chuckled slightly at the proud grin on the other man's face. 

"Thank you." Sherlock shook his head, sitting down in the other chair. "So who are we talking to first?"

"You know." Sherlock tilted his head enjoying making John guess. 

"No, I don't know." Sherlock gave him the just think face and so John guessed, "Elizabeth Brent?"

"Bingo." Sherlock smirked tilting his head the opposing direction. John shook his head at his detective. 

Moments later when the toast was gone leaving only crumbs as an indication of food, Sherlock got to the door tossing John's jacket at him which landed perfecting on his head obstructing his view. John sighed and stood up, fixing his hair and putting his jacket on. Sherlock was, per-usual, already out the door waiting for his flatmate to catch up. 

\------

They were planning on visiting all addresses listed on the word document from last night but it seemed like two were going to be useful because upon arrival at Elizabeth's house they were greeted by both Elizabeth and Victor, whom were apparently involved. *cough, cough*

"Yes, I know its bad, but I wasn't cheating when he was alive, just since he was found dead, Victor was helping me cope." Victor stayed silent at Elizabeth's words.

"Motive, got it." Sherlock jabbed at the young woman who seemed scared. 

"No, no, I would never kill Devy, I loved him."

Everyone stayed silent for a moment before John decided to let her hear something. "So, Mrs. Brent, when your boyfriend died he left voice recordings for you and Victor, so we thought you may want to hear them." He opened his phone starting the recording for Liz first. 

As it ended Victor furrowed his eyebrows, "I don't know what kind of sick joke this is to you mates but that's not Devin. He has an American accent, not that weird Irish one." This made Sherlock furrow his eyebrows and look at Elizabeth.

"Victor is right, sorry." Sherlock looked over to John who was jotting down notes.

"Do either of you know of a James who he was in acquaintance with, that or can you tell us about project w?"

Victor spoke in a loud and harsh tone, "Don't worry about James, you don't mess with him, he caused all of this SHIT. And project w is bullocks, it was always project m, he didn't anyone to know, his life was at stake, we see how that goes."

Sherlock tilted his head slightly. The man wasn't lying. 

\------

Sherlock and John exited the building, walking by foot rather than taking a cab, for the next location was close. 

"I take it despite what Victor said we are going to see James?" John asked with a slight hesitance in his voice. 

"Obviously." Sherlock fixed his already straight coat. John shook his head, something seemed wrong...

The building was a bit drafty yet cozy. All the walls were painted a bright shade of white, the color everyone wants their teeth to be, the floor was a golden shade of wood, it went nicely with the walls. Sherlock ran his hand along the wall as John walked in front on him. There was a sky blue door with a sign on it, Hello Sherlock - I'm James - come in. John looked between the detective and the door as Sherlock slowly opened it. 

It looked like your average flat. Three cups of tea sat on a table in the living area. Sherlock and John both sat down, unsure of the circumstance. A man dressed in a tailored suit with hair slicked back walked in sitting in the remaining chair. 

"Hello boys, we're a bit late aren't we." He made a face of fake pity before going back to the psychotic smile. 

"What do you want Moriarty?" Sherlock was more serious than ever.

"Nothing, just a good chat." He turned his head to face John who was trying to not show his worries, something he learned as a solider. "First have some tea, I didn't poison it or anything, I'm not that sadistic. Well maybe I am but that's not the point." Sherlock poured him and John each a cup and Moriarty followed suit. 

"Thanks." Sherlock didn't break his eye contact. 

"So, like I was saying, we need to chat. Explain how you solved the case." Moriarty grinned.

"We didn-" John started before being cut off by Sherlock.

"Obviously the woman was always a fake, she was Elizabeth in disguise, that's why no images showed her full face. Victor was the double agent, feeding Devin information to get closer to his death. You, Victor, and Elizabeth all acted in malice, killing a man for what reason may I ask. Oh wait no, I know why, you enjoy people dying." Sherlock rattle off his deduction to which Moriarty smiled. "I knew the second I heard the recording. Your voice is certainty one I'm not going to forget. You faked all of that. You made the crime scene fit your ditsy recordings, knowing I would check the laptop. Elizabeth was the one trying to get in the room that day, to make sure I had gotten the files. You burned the victim alive, just not where he was found, no the scene was untouched by fire. You killed him, then recorded the trail, and set everyone up." Moriarty's smile grew. 

"Very good." Moriarty who looked over to John who was still a bit lost. "Looks like Johnny boy is a bit lost. You should really hang out with people of your intellectual range." John looked down at his cup. 

"My associates are my issue." Sherlock stood, so did James. John looked between the two. 

"Are you ready for our little game." He snuggled his face up close to Sherlock, prompting John to glare and ball up his fists. Sherlock stayed silent. "Good." 


	7. Two Rooms

Somehow undenounced to John he was now in in a glass case, as if being on display in a museum. It was a small glass case, barley enough space for him to turn. Looking around he attempted to find Sherlock, but he wasn't anywhere to be seen. He punched the class wall hoping to shatter in, to no avail all he reached was pain in his knuckles. 

"Careful." A voice sing-songed, "Its ballistic glass you won't damage it, it will damage you." The voice go more stern and John noticed Jim standing right outside the glass, somehow he hadn't noticed him. 

"Where's Sherlock." John stared directly at the psychopath outside his exhibit. 

Moriarty blew his breath against the glass, fogging it up. Using his finger he traced one word, Somewhere. John clenched his teeth and Moriarty chuckled, "You will see him sooner or later. Ta-Ta now." He turned walking away giggling to himself as he did so. 

~Elsewhere~  
Sherlock groaned sprawling himself on the floor like a starfish, coat picking up dirt from the floor, "BORED!" He lifted his head up before slamming it back against the wooden floor once more. His self loathing was interrupted by James walking in. 

"You won't be shortly." He chewed on a piece of gum he had acquired at some point on his way from John to Sherlock. "Or maybe you will be, no one knows do they." Sherlock got the hint. 

"Very ambitious of you." 

"There is always more than one way to skin a cat, but in the end, you still get your new kitty loafers." He grinned reaching out a hand to help Sherlock to his feet. 

Sherlock accepted, "Where's John?" Sherlock asked brushing himself off.

"Somewhere safe," Moriarty flicked a crumb off of Sherlock's shoulder, "I wouldn't hurt your Johnny boy."

Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "Think, its what you do best." Moriarty spun himself around before exiting. 

Something wasn't right. Sherlock's vision began to blur and the room around him began to fade. 


	8. Choices

John managed to somewhat sit in his confined space. It was uncomfortable to say the least, every part of him managed to be shoved up against the glass prison's walls. The space was getting colder for reason's he was unaware of. John was beginning to be able to see his own breath. It had been hours since Moriarty had left John. He decided he needed some rest despite how cramped he would be in the morning. He curled his knees closer to his chest - which was painstaking. 

His eyelids began to flutter shut but before he could fall asleep the familiar Irish accent rang in his ears. "Read, sorry preparations suck." He sounded genuinely annoyed which slightly amused John. "Would you mind standing, its more formal." Moriarty asked burying his hands in his pockets. John obliged, stretching from his taxing amount of time curled in a ball. The air was ever colder, how did it not effect Jim?

Air puffed out of John's nose, "You're cold huh." Moriarty's breath didn't have the same effect. "You are freezing to death in there. We can't have that." He adjusted him shoulders, "Thirty degrees!!-Fahrenheit" He yelled followed by slightly warmer air circling around John. 

"Thanks." John muttered half-heartedly.

"Now we need to talk." John rolled his eyes attempting to ignore the psycho, "-about Sherlock." This definitely caught John's attention, "We need to get rid of him. It didn't work having him kill himself so I guess we should help him." John's heart sank so far he though he could feel it pass his knees, "Drowning sounds fun. Right? Okay. One issue, its not a game unless you have some fun so we must make it a little fair." Moriarty stepped back as a curtain revealed a large tank of water. A thick rope held Sherlock just above the water, hands tied behind him, ankles tied tight, and his own scarf being used as a gag. His coat was nowhere to be seen. 

"He's unconscious." John deadpanned raising an eyebrow at Moriarty. 

"Well duh," Jim dragged out the uh as if it was common knowledge.

"Anyway blondie," He cleared his throat preparing for his evil monologue," You see what you are dealing with. I will give you one phone call. You will need to only call one of three people. 999, your Detective Inspector friend, or Sherlock's umbrella addicted brother; the Penguin. You have a 10 word maximum of what to say. After your call you have a penalty depending on who you called. 999, we will make Sherlock conscious, making you watch him drown while also seeing the heartbreak on his face. The DI, we add chlorine to the water, and we know how much. The Penguin, we slowly heat up the water slowly boiling him as he drowns. Here's your phone. If you mess up and don't follow the guidelines Sherlock will have a bullet through his brain before he even hits the water." All of that was said in a steady tone that made John uneasy. A phone fell from the ceiling hitting him in the head. John picked up the phone knowing exactly who to call. 

"Ready," John's hands began to shake as Moriarty began counting down, "3...2...1...the game is on." Jim laughed at Sherlock's phrase as his unconscious body descended towards the water at a snails pace. 

The ring tone went once, twice, three times, answered, "Hello. John you don't call much."

"Lestrade trace this call for location, quick Sherlock in danger." John then hung up knowing he hit hi s10 word maximum. 

"I see your choice." The corner of Moriarty's mouth twitched. 

As Sherlock's body hit the water John noticed a masked man drop in a hose that most likely was adding the chlorine to the water. 

"I must be going. You can't though so I guess the is goodbye." Moriarty smiled, blowing and popping a bubble with his gum before walking away. 

The only thing John could think of was, What am I to do....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, I myself kind of like this chapter, idk, for anyone who missed it when Moriarty referred to Mycroft Holmes as the Penguin he was making a joke towards his obsession with umbrella's and the DC Batman super villain, the Penguin, whom also is a umbrella enthusiast. Also if you were in John's position what would you have chosen, 999, Lestrade, or Mycroft?-JohntheBlonde
> 
> P.S. I'm concerned with how much research I've done on worst situations to drown in. Also yes the punishment for adding chlorine is a horrid punishment and in my opinion worse than waking Sherlock up because Moriarty knew how much to use and if chlorine isn't dosed properly it can be very dangerous because it is a chemical that is hazardous, humans just found a safe use for it. I didn't give the chemical measurements in the text because I would have to do very extensive research on the tank that Sherlock is put in but believe me Moriarty used a dangerous amount for a person to be submerged in. Everything Sherlock is at risk of having happen because of the exposer is being poisoned, serious illness or injury, and fire and explosion chances. If you cared or wanted to know about the science behind John's decision. He himself will later explain his choices aswell. 
> 
> -Sorry for the long note 0-0


	9. He Promised

4-6 minutes at most, that's all he has if his lungs are fully healthy, which they aren't he smokes, not often, but he does. John's thoughts were jumbling themselves. Lestrade was on his way he hoped but he had to do something. He kept checking his watch, Sherlock had only been submerged one minute and twenty-six, twenty-seven, twenty-eight, oh you get the point, seconds. There was a chance even that was too little time. 

John reluctantly looked out of his glass prison across to Sherlock. He could see him, he hadn't drowned yet his body was still on the bottom. His hair was floating around his face and it looked angelic. His eyelids were closed housing the brilliant eyes beneath them. John's thoughts were halted as bubbles began to float out of Sherlock's nose. Shit. John banged against the ballistic glass harder, he heard a small crack and immediately grabbed his wrist in pain. He's running out of time. John ran his hands through his hair repeatedly as if it would do something.

Time ticked by now it was nearing 3 minutes of Sherlock being underwater and John was losing hope. Come on Lestrade, come on. The pain of John's broken wrist was now the least of his worries. Knowing it wouldn't do anything he slammed his entire body against the glass wall. Pain shot through his body, if he could he would have fallen over but there was no where near enough space for self pity. 

Just as John prepared to slam himself against the glass again he heard another bang that wasn't created by him. "JOHN!" Lestrade's voice echoed trough the hollow room. Two men rushed over along with Greg. "Sledge hammer, two of them." He instructed one of the two men with him who the turned running to get the hammers. 

Lestrade was now right by the glass. "John we will get you out."

"Don't worry about me, GET SHERLOCK!" He yelled the last part banging his pointer finger against the glass to the tank that Lestrade ignored on his way in. "-HE'S DROWNING" Lestrade looked over before running over to the poor man whom just retrieved two sledge hammers, telling him something John couldn't make out. It must have been about Sherlock because now men were rushing in groups of 5 over to the tank. Two separate men tended to the glass around John. 

\-----

No more than a minute had passed and Sherlock was out of the water. In total he had been submerged for four minutes and twelve-ish seconds. Lestrade informed John that Sherlock was still unconscious and they weren't sure yet of his condition otherwise. This only slightly calmed John for so much could come from this, so much destruction could come from this.

\-----

Eventually they broke the glass concealing John. It shattered sending pieces of glass flying at John, some hitting him and cutting him, others just falling to the ground. Greg tried to convince John to see a paramedic for his wrist and cuts but he ignored him, running past him to where Sherlock's unconscious body was laying. 

"There is a pulse, it's weak though." informed a young black-haired paramedic with green eyes that danced in the light like emeralds. John kneeled down beside him. "I will be right back." The woman stood leaving John to sit alone with Sherlock. 

Drops of water rested still on his porcelain skin. His hair lay astray, damp and darkened. His clothes clung to his thin figure, defining every edge of the perfect being. Before John knew it he was crying, a salty tear ran across one of the glass-inflicted cuts, it burned but John ignored it. Another tear fell without running down John's face, it landed on Sherlock's cheek, mixing with a few water droplets already there. It then attempted to run down Sherlock's own cheek but John wiped it away with his finger. 

"I'm back sorry about.." The woman came back over slightly startling John who turned around wiping a tear of his own away. "-that." She tilted her head giving him a sorry look. "I can go...if you need..."She tucked a piece of hair that had fallen in her face back behind her ear. 

"No, no. Its-, I'm fine." John stood up smiling fake-ly 

"I fake-smile when I'm fine too." She commented bending down tilting her head to look straight at Sherlock. John opened his mouth before closing it again. "Might want to get those cuts looked at, some are pretty nasty. Not to mention that busted wrist." She sounded calm and spoke as if this was a normal conversation. 

"Where would I go for that?" He looked over to her and she looked sideways back at him.

"Over there." She pointed over to people wearing the same paramedic vest as her. John shook his head turning to go that way. "-and before you go," She stood about level height with John " he will be okay, and you should be honest with him." John opened his mouth and she placed a finger over his lips, "Shut up." She turned kneeling back down and John left off to the other paramedics. 

\-----

"There ya go." The American paramedic said wrapping the last bandage around John's wrist. John hummed staring into space. "You good man?" The paramedic asked putting the bandages away in a box. 

"Yeah, yeah, I'm good." John signed. 

"Mr. Holmes is going to be okay, if that's what's on your mind."

"Do you really know that?" John asked slightly pissed. He tilted his head looking up at the taller man. 

"Honestly, no. But he seems to be doing well." 

"Hm." John seemed unconvinced. 

"Hey man, from what I heard when they pulled him out he was unconscious and has been since. Stable breathing and pulse, they assume there is some water in the lungs but are waiting until they are in a hospital to do anything about that. And before you ask, an ambulance is on the way." He rested a hand on John's knee, "Chances are, he should be okay."

John smiled ingenuinely. "He promised."

"hm?"

"I know he will be okay because he promised he wouldn't leave again." His eyes burned as he held back tears. 

"Then he will be okay." The kind man smiled one last time before walking away.


	10. Ice-cream and Forgiveness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, I don't know where exactly am headed after this chapter, it's not the end, yet. I have an 'ending' but what happens between here and there isn't solidified in my mind. I am happy that people are reading this and, thank you, the next update just may be further in the future because I'm working on the story a bit. Not to far in the future, at most a week, sometimes it takes me a while to write, but I digress, hope you enjoy(ed) reading.

-At the Hospital, later that day, 10:47 pm-  
John was finally aloud into see Sherlock. He was still unconscious but they had pumped the water out of his lungs. The steady beeping of the monitor kept John calm as it was on indication that Sherlock was indeed okay. John's eyes skimmed over Sherlock before landing on his lips. He thought back to the kiss and remembered how warm and soft Sherlock's lips had been and how he had wanted that moment to last forever. John swallowed down a lump that had formed in his throat. 

A nurse came in with a replacement bag for the IV. She smiled at John as she did her job, "Its getting late, I'm not supposed to let you stay but if you want I can get you a blanket or pillow or something."

"Yeah, sure, thank you." She left her bleach blonde ponytail flipping as she turned. 

He turned his attention back to Sherlock. His fingers were slightly twitching. John smiled running his thumb over Sherlock's fingers, the twitching stopped.

Moments later the nurse was back, "Here you go." She plopped a teal silk pillow and a fluffy tan blanket on the couch."

"Thank you, uh-" 

"Isaliah. But people call me Izzy. I'm fine with anything." 

"Then thank you Izzy." John smiled slightly. 

"No problem." She nodded, "Were you two..." She looked Sherlock and John before landing her eye's on their intertwined fingers that John wasn't even aware of until now. 

"Oh, uh, no, maybe, idk really. I hope so, but not really." John was rambling mostly to himself, "No." He decided on. 

"Okay, well..." She contemplated saying something before changing her mind, "Goodnight." She ticked the t and then left for the last time. 

John looked over at the hand-holding smiling once more. His mind flew back to the day he found Sherlock to be alive. His mind was buzzing with the moment replaying over and over. Tears burned the back of his eyes which he shut to keep the tears from falling. "Why are you always in a life threatening situations..." John was beginning to feel tired but didn't want to leave Sherlock's side. 

\-----

5:11am~  
Pain shot up John's right side, waking him up. Apparently he had fallen asleep in the chair by Sherlock, hand's still interlocked. John rolled his shoulders straightening himself in his seat. A soft knock came from the door making John's head turn. Isaliah entered holding another IV bag. 

"Oh hello Mr. Watson, I uh came by around 1, you were asleep then." She smiled continuing to switch the bags. 

"Please call me John. And its okay." 

"Okay, John. My shift ends at 6:30 so most likely I won't be coming back till 10 when I come back on shift. Just so you know." She placed her hand on John's shoulder. "You need anything? Coffee? Tea? Ice-cream?" 

"Tea would be nice...and maybe ice-cream"

She chuckled, "Okay. Only a moment."

"Thank you, again." She nodded leaving John for the third, apparently fourth, time. 

John slowly let go of Sherlock's hands walking to the restroom. He leaned his elbows on the sink, staring into the sink as his ran his fingertips through his short hair. Looking up he stared at himself in the mirror. Considering his minimal sleep he had dark circles under eyes. Clenching his teeth, John punched the mirror with his good hand. It cracked. John hit it repeatedly in the same place. He stopped as a drop of red hit the white rim of the sink. The mirror was nearly shattered or at least beat-up to the point that he couldn't see his full reflection. His knuckles were sliced up and all that was really visible was a lot of blood and ripped skin. John turned on the sink letting the cold water rinse the wounds. 

"John?" Izzy's voice stopped John's thoughts as he walked back to the main room. 

"I was....well...someone might want to fix the mirror. That's all I'll say." John sat down on the couch moving aside the pillow and blanket. Isaliah sat down beside him handing him his cup of tea. He nodded in thanks. 

"Something's on your mind." She popped open the ice cream container handing John a spoon. 

"Yeah." John sat aside his tea, scooping a spoonful of the raspberry-chip ice-cream. He signed licking the spoon. 

"Do you want to talk about it?" Izzy scooped her own lump of ice-cream. 

He drummed his spoon on his thigh, looking over to Sherlock, "Not really."

"Okay. I'll respect that." She smiled shoveling more of the frozen treat in her mouth. John laughed. "Is your fist okay?"

"Yeah." His fist was beginning to bruise and the scars look pretty bad.

"If you say so." She stood sitting the container in John's lap. Izzy walked to the bathroom. "Wow, I think you won." She chuckled returning with a roll of bandage and some gauze. 

She kneeled down wrapping up John's knuckles. "There you go." She stood tightening her ponytail. 

"Thank you." John continued eating his ice-cream. 

"I have to clock out," She smiled, "See you at 10." She raised her eyebrows as she turned. 

"Bye." 

John stood leaving the container of now-beginning-to-melt ice-cream on the couch. He walked over to Sherlock chewing on his bottom lip. "Something is on my mind..." John paused collecting his thoughts. "...you wouldn't understand. You don't do feelings..." Sherlock's fingers twitched again. "I want to say something but I can't find words. Maybe not speaking is the best thing I can say right now." John picked back up the ice-cream before sitting by Sherlock again. 

John stat silently eating. Sherlock slightly groaned and it caught John's attention. John reached over grabbing Sherlock's hand. "You're okay." A slight bang was followed by a grumpy voice.

"Did Izzy let you spend the night?" A doctor was now standing at the foot of the bed tabbing his thumb angrily on end of the bed. John opened his mouth but was interrupted, "Never mind, you shouldn't have, and you won't again, curly is only going to get better if you leave him alone. And, are you eating, not in here you aren't." The doctor grabbed the ice-cream tub from John's hands throwing them in the trash can.

"I was eating because that's what people do to survive, and he has a name, it's not curly it's Sherlock Holmes, and I'm a doctor and very aware that my being here isn't affecting his condition." John stood clenching his teeth. 

"Get out." 

"Why?" John stood his ground not wanting to leave his detective.

"You. Are. NOT! Helping your friend." 

"Should I reiterate that I am a doctor, an army doctor, and my being here doesn't do anything to my friend." The doctor raised an eyebrow before looking away. 

"Okay then. Stay." The doctor turned leaving as abruptly as he came. John smiled to himself before sitting back down by Sherlock. 

"I don't want to leave." John swallowed, "And I won't because you won't."

"J-John..." Sherlock's voice was small and deep yet it startled John. 

"Yes?" John smiled. 

"You're here." Sherlock smiled too. 

"Why wouldn't I." He tilted his head still smiling. 

"Come here." John stood walking closer to Sherlock who reached up cupping John's cheek, pulling him closer. "You would." Sherlock leaned up pressing his lips to John's. 

As they separated they smiled at each other beginning to giggle. "John, you taste like...raspberry...ice-cream." Sherlock licked his lips.

"Problem?" John asked attempting to sound like Sherlock.

"No, I like it. Emotional eating were we?"

"Eating, yes, emotional, maybe." John's smile fell and he stepped back, "Don't do that again, you know, attempt to drown."

Sherlock raised his eyebrows, "I didn't try to, apparently drown, but I will stop when you stop worrying." Sherlock hesitated, "So, whenever you choose." 

"Never." Sherlock furrowed his eyebrows, "I will never stop worrying about you."

"Than I will never stop being in danger." 

"Not the answer I wanted." John stated looking away from Sherlock's, currently green, eyes.

"But it's the answer." Sherlock tilted his head back. "And its good enough."

"Its not 'good enough', but it is what it is."

"It is."

Silent filled the room for a moment, both men waiting for the other to speak first. 

"I forgive you." John broke the silence looking up from the floor, eye meeting Sherlock's. 

"What?"

"I. Forgive. You." John stretched out his fingers, watching his tendons move. 

Sherlock wanted to speak but words didn't form. "Eh, th-, t,uh."

"Don't hurt yourself, I know." John smiled and Sherlock returned the expression.


End file.
